


Eradicate the Torment of a Heavy Heart

by mangacrack



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, BAMF Celebrimbor, Friendship/Love, M/M, Second Age, Self-Sacrifice, Stubborn Feanorians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 13:28:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30140271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangacrack/pseuds/mangacrack
Summary: Fire and Death. Celebrimbor knows them far too well. His heart has room for more.
Relationships: Celebrimbor | Telperinquar & Curufin | Curufinwë, Celebrimbor | Telperinquar/Sauron | Mairon
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Eradicate the Torment of a Heavy Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the **FEANORIAN WEEK 2021**. I have meant to write this for a long time. This is the perfect opportunity.

  
  


The city burns easily. Workshops with flammable materials turned his home into a world of fire. Celebrimbor tastes ashes on his tongue. Ost-in-Edhil screams while hot flames devour what remains of the deserted, empty city. Whatever blessing of the Valar existed, their home-made belief that they could have peace after Beleriand sunk, it is gone now.

Beams break and crash into the flames but Celebrimbor does not move from his chosen spot. He is dressed in armour. It still fits him like a second skin and his sword rests in his palm.

On his other hand, he wears the three rings. With Annatar's betrayal, Celebrimbor contemplated sending them to safety. He could not risk letting them fall into the wrong hands.

He chose not to.

He might die, either way, it is unlikely he is going to make it out alive. But with the three rings at his proposal, he can make a difference.

His expression darkens into grim features that resemble his uncle Carnistir. His eyes turn dark and terrible. They are like a chasm that opens beneath your feet and when you fall, you realize you will never reach the bottom.

Celembrimbor twists his lips into a vicious smile. For years, he cast the mantle of his family away. He bowed before Gil-galad, the child-king and respected his decisions in the wake to protect the families under his charge. These family have fled, they left their home.

The last Scion of Fëanor remains. He towers on the steps that lead to the forge where he trusted a friend. He had not known the true identity of the man named Annatar, but he not been so blind that he could not see the shadows of Angband in his eyes.

Celebrimbor chose to give him a chance. Like his uncle deserved, like all of his uncles deserved. He does not regret his actions, only the outcome.

He wishes he could have changed the result. He mourns the burning city.

He even mourns Sauron's impending death.

The wind fires up the flames and tugs at his hair but Celebrimbor does not move as a figure strides down the street. There is not much left of the shops and the laughing people who had been so grateful for the chance to settle somewhere in peace again.

"I had not thought you would have the guts to face me," Sauron purrs when he arrives. He comes in the form of a wolf, a cloud of ashes that pass through the ruined city.

If he expects Celebrimbor to falter in front of the remainder of the betrayal, he is wrong. Determination flows down his spine like molten steel. His old armour may not have his family crests etched into it, he could not afford to wear it when he made it, but it is not necessary anyway.

He learned a long time ago that he would always love his family.

He cannot deny the blood that flows in his veins. And that is exactly the reason why Sauron has to die.

"I pity you, my friend. I let you into my home fully knowing that you carried a heavy weight and a dark past with you. I did not care because I would welcome my uncles just like I welcomed you." Celebrimbor does not move. If his friend wishes to banter within a burning city than he will let him.

He is curious about how he will try to justify his excuses.

Celebrimbor studies his friend as he transforms into a solid figure. But the ashes cling to him and while the person in front of him resembles the friend he shared his thoughts and his heart with, he can easily mark the difference.

There is madness in his eyes. Disgust and all-compassing hatred.

Had Celebrimbor not learned to deal with Curufinwë Atarinkë and the pain he carried after the death of his wife, he might have missed that the hatred is mostly directed at Sauron himself.

It feels wrong on his tongue to call his friend by that name but he is no longer Annatar either.

 _You are Mairon,_ Celebrimbor states in his thoughts. His friend's mind is too far gone to hear him. _You are the same tortured spirit that trusted a mentor and was lead down a terrible path. No doubt that you kept looking back for you could always catch a glimpse of the light you came from but you are too afraid to consider salvation._

If Mairon is just a shred of the person his uncle Maedhros had been. then he probably believes it is too late for him to be saved.

That Mairon throws in one last, albeit very cheap attempt to convince Celebrimbor to join him, is hardly a surprise.

"If you do not mind the blood on my hands, let us leave this place behind. We still can do great things together...," the Maia says and offers Celebrimbor his hand. He waits at the bottom of the steps. His smile does not reach his eyes. Those bleed with pain and Celebrimbor has seen the expression in his father's face before he left Nargothrond.

The worst Celebrimbor could do, or could have done in his father's case, is to accept the offer. His friend wants him to decline, just like Curufin.

He could not live with himself if he dragged Celebrimbor down the bloody path but cannot stop himself from asking in foolish, helpless desperation.

"I remember the times we joined our efforts and I will not deny that I enjoyed them," Celebrimbor says. Slowly, he pulls the sword from its sheath. The entire former market place erupts in blinding light and Sauron shrieks when it hits his eyes. He stumbles back while Celebrimbor calmly readies himself for the fight.

"But we cannot remain on this path, Mairon. We are two stars bound to crash into each other and only dust will remain."

Celebrimbor is a master in swallowing his grief.

He did not cry when his father and his uncle left Nargothrond, leaving the war-torn families safe in Celebrimbor's care. He did not shed tears when they fell in Doriath or when they attacked Sirion. Only when the news of uncle Nelyafinwë's death reached him, Celebrimbor's composure shattered for a moment.

Maybe he will cry if he survives the fight but he doubts he will live that long.

Sauron screams in frustration and gathers power to throw him off his feet. Unfortunately, Celebrimbor is prepared. He had years to study his uncles' methods of holding Angband.

He is also the last Fëanorian.

The last with an idea of how his grandfather crafted the Silmarils.

His sword lights up and the rings on his finger answer his call. The edge has become unbelievable sharp, the white fire that erupts from the hilt would burn Celebrimbor's skin if it were not his own.

Breaking the Silmarils would have killed Fëanor.

Celebrimbor woke up one morning after Annatar's betrayal with the knowledge that is exactly the way he can end the fight before it begins.

"You are a fool, Tyelperinquar," Sauron screams. But he does not throw himself at Celebrimbor. His eyes remain on the sword, afraid. Awe and terror have always been the two sides of the coin Mairon represents.

"I know." Celebrimbor flicks his wrist and the sword _sings_ and Sauron stumbles back several feet. He does not need Maglor's voice to recreate his achievements. "I wish there could be a different way to resolve this. I would even follow you if I thought it would help."

Sauron's eyes clear for a moment. There is a shred of hope and raw desperation. His clawed fingers paused in mid-air.

"You lie. No Fëanorian would willingly join me," Sauron hisses.

Celebrimbor falls into a battle stance. Despite the power that runs through him and the sword, it feels like he is about to practice in the yard. It is _easy_ because it can only end in one way.

"I would not condemn you for your past if I could be sure that you actually want to be saved," Celebrimbor answers truthfully. "But nothing I do or say will convince you to consider that alternative. And if you do not consider it for me, what hope does the rest of the world have?"

Sauron wretches a sad smile into his lips. It is the only concession he makes that Celebrimbor is right. He says, quietly and with a tone that reminds of their shared private moments, "If you do not stop me, I will cast the entire world into shadows. I will follow my Master's will, no matter the cost."

"No, you will not.," Celebrimbor promises. It might as well have been an oath.

* * *

  
  


Barely an hour later Sauron lies dead in front of him. The sword is still ebbed into his chest but the white fire faded into a soft glow. Celebrimbor had fallen into the sand. All of his strength had left him. The arm that held the sword is ruined. It is a black, charred mess and not even the bones remain.

Half of his face is numb. Celebrimbor tries not to imagine what he looks like.

Blood runs down his neck.

Maybe, if he left right now, he could find a way out of the city. Some of the flames have died out during their fight. There is a chance that he would run into Elrond's forces instead of falling into the hands of Orcs.

But Celebrimbor remains. His lips move quietly as he sings. The three rings lie undamaged on the ground and they still try to assist him.

Enough people would call him foolish. Sauron's spirit writhes in his grasp but he is pinned in place by the sword. A weapon Celebrimbor crafted from the light of the Silmaril in the sky and his own fëa.

"I will not allow you to run," Celebrimbor chuckles, tired and spitting blood. His grip on his friend's soul is merciless and unyielding. "I will not allow the void to take you. Lord Námo awaits us."

Mairon never believed he deserved to be saved. It is not Celebrimbor's place to judge if he joined Morgoth willingly or he realized his foolishness and just had been too scared of the consequences to consider a different path.

But Celebrimbor has seen the pain. He saw the soft smiles in the early mornings when they woke up together. He saw the hope and the gratitude when Celebrimbor took care of scars without questioning were Annatar got them.

"It ends today," Celebrimbor promises.

Then the Halls of Mandos grow around them like trees springing from the ground. Mairon's frightened scream is justified, from his perspective at least. Celebrimbor can only guess what it must feel like.

"I will not allow Morgoth to claim your soul," he whispers. "You do not deserve to be cast into the void."

If Celebrimbor had to pin Mairon in place until Arda faded to dust to prevent that from happening, he would. Freeing his friend from the chains that still tied him to Morgoth like a thrall would be difficult but worth the effort. For the lives, he will save alone, even if he had to give up his own in return.

**Author's Note:**

> My greatest beef with Celebrimbor is that he never channelled his inner Feanorian when he went up against Sauron. Personally, I think he was too afraid after the reputation his family had. But you cannot tell me that does not have the compassion to look beyond Sauron's actions and see them as the result of deeply rooted desperation and the belief "Sauron" is not worth saving. Now, he gets to beat some sense into his friend and lover.


End file.
